Constant
by TangledUpLies
Summary: What they wanted were in one another.


Hello! I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday in addition to having a fabulous start to the New Year already! I have to say thank you to everyone who reviewed and favorited _Untouchable_ because it means so much to me. This story/idea is somewhat ~holiday themed. I didn't and couldn't rush in writing it, so depending on how each one of you will look at this now, I'm a little late or quite early, lol. Rewind or fast forward time, it doesn't matter much to me. I just hope everyone likes it because I had fun writing this with lots of Christmas music. It's seems a bit dialogue heavy unlike the last two I had written. I couldn't find a way out of that. Mistakes of any kind are all mine and I apologize in advance. Have a lovely time reading and please be amazing peeps and remember to take a minute to review when you finish with whatever you have to say. I'd love to hear from all of you! Thank you & peace! =D

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Sixteen minutes until eleven.

Bright red number on the small nightstand glaring in the softly lit hotel room in the heart of the city she loved informing her and the rest of the city it was getting late.

The hectic metropolitan area would be was currently dwindling down as the night continued on she was sure of. The lowering of the temperature would be immediate because that always happened. And the people in the busy streets should be starting to disappear because it was that time now.

It was time unwind.

It was time to watch as the day reached its end soon.

It was time to get ready to crawl into bed under the thick covers to keep shielded from the bitter cold outside and the nippy cool inside.

But for Emily Prentiss, it wasn't.

Not yet into the bed under the thick covers anyway.

Instead, she sat on the edge of her bed, slipping her right foot into those everyday black boots of hers. And when that foot was comfortable and in place, she readily slid her left foot into its own shoe before slowly treading to the one seat couch opposite of her.

Standing in front of the large window overlooking the beautifully lit cityscape from the seventeenth floor of the hotel, she couldn't help but smile a little to herself.

The city she loved was getting cover in something else that she loved. It was just a steady coating of the frozen water molecules from the glowing sky onto the streets that would end sometime in the middle of the night. But the chances of it increasing were high because it was suppose to happen tomorrow night again. Every inch of the city would be covered in the fluffy white powder according to the weather reports. Until then though, it would be just the gentle sprinkling on the tall building and the city grounds. She accepted it though because a little or a lot, she still loved every single flake delicately falling down.

And as the declining snowfall filled her view, the sounds of the lingering life out and down below her filtered into her ears. A few distant honks and accompanying winds seemed to be whipping across the air every now and then. Emily touched the windowpanes with her hand, her body instantaneously shivered slightly at the cold touch. She felt the winds passing through and sighed pleasantly almost as she imagined the chill of the winter night tingling on her exposed skin once again like it had done so a few hours ago when they had been finishing the case.

She didn't mind it; the cold, the winter. She loved it. It made her feel awake and alive. Her concentration, her thoughts would clear in the cold. And without the cold, there would be no snow. That was an immediate plus in her book.

So she picked up the soft and thick burgundy scarf that rested on top of her heavy black coat and secured it around her slender neck. She pulled down the sleeves of her emerald green sweater before reaching for her coat. And shoving one arm through its proper arm hole and then the other into its own place, Emily quickly pushed all five round buttons through each of its designated space and propped up her collar. Her long dark tresses came forward a touch as she swept her bangs to the side of her face. With an immediate check for her leather gloves, her phone and the key card to her room present and safe in her pockets, she licked her lips, the red color applied in the morning she sensed gone after the tiring day and took a quick once over around the room, opting to leave the lights on before heading out the door.

The hallways were quiet and bright; the only perceived sound were her feet on the carpet and an unexpected creak from here and there. And as she passed the rooms she knew they were in, she would not have doubt that each one of them, including him, was currently in bed and tucked under the large covers and sinking into slumber like how she was supposed to be.

It had been an exhausting four days with little to no sleep in the city looking for the man who murdered eleven in all five boroughs in six weeks. Bodies all decapitated and found in the corner trash of various locations, they were all working to finish before the big day and before he struck again. And when the case ended almost an hour ago in a Brooklyn warehouse, it was unanimous decision to stay one more night in the city. It had begun snowing already; the light dusting increasing to the steady coating she had just witness by the window in her room had been combined with the need for just a little rest before the very early flight tomorrow morning found them remaining together for one more night. Then they were to not see one another for a few days, all going their separate way to spend the time off.

Reaching the elevators down the hall and to the left moments later, Emily pressed the descending button twice, waiting impatiently for the elevator doors to open. And once it did, she stepped in, pushing the button to the ground floor without pause. As the tiny fluorescent blue numbers above the doors lit up with each floor being passed, she pulled out her leather gloves from her pockets. Her hands slithered inside them, snuggled in perfectly as she fisted her hands gently. She took a glance at her watch, calculating the time in her head as her foot tapped once and twice.

She had approximately forty minutes left.

Even if she could have wished for a little more time, she would seize however many minutes she would be able to get. She didn't know when she would be back in this city. And if she was specific about it, Emily didn't know when she would be back in this city at this time of the year.

Once the bell of the elevator made a sharp chime, the doors opened. The outside chill flowing from outside made an immediate caress to her skin. And like the hallways of the seventeenth floor, the lobby was quiet as well. Perhaps everyone was warm in their rooms as well; she guessed with a quick look around her that there were a dozen and a few more lingering around. Their soft chatter encircled her surrounding space before the heels of her boots against the orange and brown granite floors echo went along with them softly as she moved her feet swiftly toward the entrance.

And with a push through the large revolving doors, Emily stood on the New York City pavement.

A smile she felt emerging almost instantly on her face while she breathed in, the freezing air rapidly filling up her lungs. Her breath already became visible for her sight when she exhaled slowly. The sharp winds hit her face when she turned her head to right. She brushed the strands of hair across her face away and tucked them behind her ears. Her body temperature and the numbers for the city she had a soft spot for, simultaneously seemed drop the longer she remained in place. And the snowflakes that were coming down stuck to her here and there, the whiteness of them standing out to the darkness of her locks and apparel.

In eight steps and cautious as to not bump into anyone in her path or slip, Emily was off the cement sidewalks and onto the streets. Her arm rose straight and out above her head immediately. A mere minute passed before one yellow taxi halted at her side. Climbing in gingerly to the backseat and buckling the seatbelt, the man in the driver's seat requested her destination.

"Fifth and forty ninth, please."

With that, the man began to drive. She sat back into the seat, her body succumbing quickly to the heat of the car. Her gloves she left on, knowing there would be no point in removing them. They would be eventually slid back on when she went back out. And at the moment anyway, she was too distracted. Because as the taxi went up the wet streets, the white numbers printed on the bright green colored metal signs increased, so did her concentration on everything around her.

It had been a very long while since she had seen this scenery.

And when the taxi stopped at a red light, Emily leaned closer to the window; her eyes taking up the passing remaining people who strolled and bustled along, bracing the cold in the night. Some of them had shopping bags in their grasps. Others had another hand in their grasp.

A few had both.

She wanted to remember everything around her. Not for a face of an individual in the crowd, but the atmosphere of the city at the moment.

In the darkness inside of the vehicle with the assistance of the yellow street lights towering above her outside, Emily saw her reflection in the window, the faint coil of her pale pink lips appearing before her sight.

Another quick look at her watch, she noted the time once more.

Thirty four minutes.

In a second nevertheless, she found the sights outside of her changing once more.

The vehicle went up the streets, maneuvering through the traffic carefully on the streets with melted snow. And every now and then when it stopped yet another time at the command of the red lights, all Emily found herself doing was absorbing as much as she possibly could. Marveling at the wreaths, some large with ornaments placed between the branches, with bright red bows hanging on the storefronts, the sparkling white bulbs in addition to the multi-colored ones outlining on a few tall buildings and decorating the hundreds of windows, she felt her heart flutter.

This was something Emily was certain that she could not and would not receive elsewhere.

When the taxi came to a complete stop at the corner of a block, the driver placed the taxi in park as his voice broke her out of her thoughts, making her realize she had arrived. He informed her of the fare. She smiled softly at him, pulling out the money in her pockets. And when she told him that he could keep the change and whispered her quiet thank you, she opened the door. The moment her foot hit the street, she felt different. A gust of wind, lighter than the one she experienced when she had stepped out of the hotel, struck her once again. The prickling of her skin with her breath seen again as she calmly breathed in and out. She took brief glimpse of the decorated and elaborated window displays before her gaze promptly traveled up at the department store. Her pupils danced with each of the projected and flashing intricate pale blue and white snowflakes.

Emily didn't remember them. This was new. It had to be. She captured the moment of seeing the shining bright designs for the first time. And once she locked the live show into her head, another glance was made to the time through the ice crystals that were continually falling around and on her. She nibbled on the inside of her bottom lip.

Twenty seven minutes remained.

And that was then she turned around.

The cold weather she loved and the descending snowfall that came with it were completely forgotten the second that familiar sight she had remembered from her past came into her view once again. Even now, at her age and after countless trees and holidays of the past spanning over three decades later, this sight, this Christmas tree from memory and in the present, was something.

It was still larger than everything around it. It was still wondrous in her eyes. And it was still a scene Emily was certain would remain in her mind and heart for perhaps another thirty years.

At the corner she stood, pushing her bangs further back, watching and waiting eagerly for the red hand to change in the white outline pedestrian. Once it did, treading through the barely covered roads with leather clad hands in her pockets; she stepped carefully around and passed the people in her way.

When she was at the end, staring straight ahead at the picturesque holiday scene, Emily contained the minor squeal that wanted to be let out.

She lowered her eyes a few inches; staring down at the pathway beneath her feet that remained in cobblestone with white powder drawing round the edges of the shapes. Her steps were slow now, wanting to soak up all that she was near currently before ultimately settling on the vision that attracted millions every year during this time. Despite the late time and the closing of the stores along the area, everything was still illuminating. The angels she recalled from that long while ago continued to stand with their horns to their mouth and pointed high up into the air. The poinsettias were bright red underneath the extremely thin layer of snow on them, their presence adorning the areas where the people would rest and enjoy what she was seeing again. And each movement closer to the scene she had never been able to erase from her head; Emily saw the flags, several of them recognized immediately, having lived in those countries when she was younger, blowing like a ribbon against the currents of the winds. The trees that surrounded the perimeter of the skating rink below the concrete ground and that would be filling her eyesight soon enough had every square inch of their dark brown tree trunks and branches stringed with white bulbs.

Yet nothing though she believed could have overshadowed, much less be compared to the spectacle of the Christmas tree embellished with the thirty thousand luminous multi-colored lights and enormous crystal star on the very top to finish it off.

Once she was out from between the buildings, a tiny gasp escaped. The brightness of the skating rink below her heightened her amazement as the display before her grew even larger and more stunning than she remembered. But as quickly as she begun relishing the close proximity of the picture, her memory, she felt her gaze pulled to the right. And when Emily took one footstep closer, her heart thumped a beat louder and faster as her breath stuck in her throat.

If each one of her team members was awake now, Aaron Hotchner was the one she didn't expect to find.

Not here when she was going through her nostalgic walk. Not outside because it was bitterly cold and the snow were gracefully covering him and every nook and cranny of the city.

He hated the cold. He rather much prefer the indoors and the warmth of spring or the coolness of autumn. Even the intense heat of the summer he rather would have than the freezing of the winter he would pass on in a blink of an eye.

That was what he had mumbled to her four days ago when they walked off the jet into the unbearable twenty eight degree morning temperature. And Emily had chuckled at once and softly told him she didn't mind the cold. She loved it. Then he had momentarily stared at her before shaking his head with a gentle grin.

They were getting close.

She knew it. She felt it.

On the second night in Wichita where three families in the suburbs were found murdered in their homes nearly five months ago because she didn't forget it, she had found him sitting in the hotel bar after midnight. She had wanted and needed some fresh air and the crack of the window didn't and couldn't satisfy her. So she went out, taking a stroll around the block. When she returned, she caught a glimpse of him sitting at the stool toward the end of the bar. His shoulders were slightly hunched with his head in a hand. Cautiously she approached him, her voice soft as she asked him if minded a little bit of her company. He had looked up surprised of course, and all she saw in his face, flaring in his eyes were tiredness. But still, he gave her a frail smile. And without delay, she returned one to him.

He wouldn't mind her company at all.

They had talked for a while with a glass of amber liquid before them. He just couldn't sleep because he was thinking about Jack. That was all. He was fine, he reassured her. She took his answer. And when their night was ending, another one of her smiles graced his presence while she told him if he wanted her company, he could just call her. Then she had lowered her voice, keeping their gazes together as she reminded him of what she had implied nearly a year before the first time she drove him home.

"You're not alone."

So then that night became one night out of many.

It wasn't always, but it was often.

Because when he missed Jack and couldn't pull himself away from the cases, especially the ones involving children and families plaguing his mind when he tried shutting his eyes, he called her, apologizing profusely if she had fallen asleep and relief a little when she always told him it was okay, it was alright. And before she had known what she was doing, she began calling him, checking if he was awake because she had been awake for the last hour tossing and turning because she believed she might be suffering from some sort of insomnia. He informed her it was alright as well. She was doing it for him. The same thing would stand for her too. Then they would meet, in his room or her room or sometimes the hotel bar again like their first time and talk.

It was simply talking.

And it was nice.

His barriers, the ones she knew he kept strong and tall, she wondered, but almost sensed, the cracking with every conversation together. And for her, the curves of her lips, she would feel breaking out wide and full without hesitation at the simplicity of his laugh or a carefree grin with dimples when he unexpectedly allowed one of those to escape.

Emily didn't understand what it was, why it happened, but she felt better, she felt good.

But almost a month ago in Nashville, something perhaps changed. She didn't know how, she didn't know why, but it did. They were in his room one night discussing the case of three murdered little girls. And before she realized it, they started talking about kids. She was staring down at the glass of whiskey when he spoke. His voice, she remembered clearly still, was gentle. His eyes were as well, but were darker than usual when she glanced up at him as he hesitantly wondered if she had wanted them, kids of her own. Her answer was simple; one word containing three letters while they fixed their eyes on one another. That contact was held on for minutes. She felt him searching her, diving into her before she had softly cleared her throat, turning her attention downcast. And when they continued to sit in his dim room in a silence that started to envelope them, she had felt him watching intently still. His gaze began stinging her. Into her skin and into her veins, his eyes were sinking into her almost uncontrollably until she couldn't handle it and returned the gesture. He had lowered his eyes instantaneously though.

She didn't say anything and he didn't either about it.

After that, whenever his eyes stayed on her, whether she looked at him or not, for a long while or a short glance, her body felt ablaze.

And at the current moment however it was different because it was her who had a gaze settled upon him, watching him intently. Yet her body, albeit the reality of the existing temperature and who was doing the observing, felt warm presently, seeing him here. He stood with his hands placed in safely in his pockets as well. And no one of the few people left admiring and lingering near the tree and the activities below them were anywhere near him.

He was alone.

So with the breath stuck in her throat finally finding its way out her mouth and wetting her cold lips, Emily's gradual strides moved toward him. The glow of the ice and lights reflected off of him. She saw the pale dusting of the white powder coating his black coat and short hairs. His head was slightly bent, his attention focusing on the people enjoying themselves on the rink. The collar of his own coat was propped up similar to hers. And when he had yet to realize or feel someone beside him, Emily spoke gently, not wanting to frighten him.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Those four sudden words, the gentleness of the voice flowed through his ears. And when Hotch looked up, he met the sweet curl of her lips upon the porcelain face with cheeks turning rosy through the ticking seconds.

"Hey"

Her eyes were twinkling a little. Her feet were together with her hands in her pockets of her heavy black coat like him. And when the light gust of wind blew in at her, her thick raven hair sprinkled with a dusting of snowflakes flew back, he felt his heartstrings slightly pulled at for the briefest moment.

"Hey."

It was quiet between them after that, his eyes continuing to hold onto hers in between the tiny seconds of absorbing her appearance as the one word greeting hung in the air. And for the minutes of staring at him while he stared back with a startled face, Emily was unsure if she should have approached him. Even if it had been often, even if it was almost five moths of conversations late at night with one month of feeling his eyes affecting her, she wondered if she should have said anything to him tonight; if she should have distracted him from his thoughts and taking him out of his world.

Maybe he had wanted some peace and quiet in the cold she knew he hated.

Yet the curve on her face remained intact, masking those uncertainties that would not stop building up in her. Slowly but surely though, the startled expression on his face disappeared and was quickly replaced with a miniscule smile and amused eyes.

"Only a penny though? It's Christmas; the season of giving," Hotch tenderly quipped while his eyebrows rose several millimeters up.

At his words, Emily felt her shoulders loosening, unknown to her until that precise moment they had even tensed in the quiet that had been between them. She took one and another step forward until she stood four inches besides him with their elbows barely touching.

And with a slight shrug, a few flakes dangling off into midair as their gazes still remaining even, that curve she was currently giving him spread another centimeter or so upwards, she sweetly retorted back, "Hmm… a quarter then."

There was no delay before his chuckle surrounded them and gently echoed away with the small winds passing by.

"Why are you out here anyway?" Her inquiry was a little cheery whilst her eyes glistened with a hint of innocent curiosity. She arched up her own eyebrows and continued, "I thought you hated the cold."

Hotch laughed warmly, his breath noticeably more visible than hers and she wondered to herself how long he had been out here alone. He gave her a minute nod with his voice low unlike her question. "I do… I still do. I just couldn't sleep… and I didn't want to sit in my room… or stay inside for a matter of a fact…"

For a flash of a second, he thought about telling her that he had wanted to call her again like so many other times he had done so to check if she was awake like he had been.

He liked her company when he couldn't sleep and he would have liked her company tonight when he couldn't sleep. He would have enjoyed her beside him, discussing whatever that came to mind as they shared a glass of whatever was supplied to them by the hotel with her light laughs and her sweet smiles.

But he stopped himself.

About wanting to call her and about wanting to tell her that he liked her company when he couldn't sleep, and the reason he didn't want to stay inside was that he didn't, couldn't call her, he didn't enlighten her with the information.

If he could, if he should let her know, Hotch didn't know.

He was unsure if that would've been allowed between them. It would be, in his head, perhaps inappropriate.

They had been getting close.

He realized it. He sensed it.

That first time in Wichita when she had found him in the hotel bar, coming up to him from behind and asked in that soft concerned voice of hers if he would have minded a little company, her company, and he whispered moments afterwards he wouldn't have minded at all was still fresh in his mind.

They had talked for a few hours as he tried to free her worries of him. He was fine. He just couldn't keep his eyes shut for longer than three minutes because he was thinking of Jack. When their night, their conversations were drawing to an end, she had smiled at him, telling him if he ever needed her company he could just call her. Then he had watched as her face had changed, turning gentler underneath the dim bar lights. And seconds later her voice was heard, softer than before and soothing him almost as their eyes locked and she whispered to him, without an ounce of subtext present what she had said to him that night after Louisville.

"You're not alone."

That night the words stuck to him. He had laid in bed wide awake repeating and absorbing her words in her very voice into every crevices of his brain; slowly accepting and admitting to himself that in some part, in some way that he really wasn't alone.

So Hotch took up her offer.

It wasn't every time he couldn't stop his head from running. But it was more than he expected himself to.

When he estimated the time off in his head, it was close to five months.

They were close to five months of nice quiet discussions late at night that he enjoyed thoroughly. A couple of times he had woken her up from her slumber. He felt extremely guilty, but she calmed the rising guilt in him, telling him it was alright. In turn she did the same to him, diagnosing herself with insomnia and called him when he had fallen asleep. And when she apologized in those times like how he had done so to her, he had given her a smile when they met in his room or her room or even the hotel bar, informing her that if she needed his company as well, she could call him too.

So in secret they found company with one another.

There was something about her that just comforting. She helped him, taking his mind off of whatever failures and regrets were cursing his mind. The way her lips twist, a little or a lot, her laughs, soft and charming, were infectious.

It was just talking.

Yet something turned different.

He couldn't pinpoint it at first, but he knew it just was.

Then it happened. Hotch didn't know the reason of it, he couldn't even remember when it first occurred, but he gradually found himself imagining the smiles and hearing those laughs of hers when his eyes closed.

He didn't understand what that meant. He didn't understand why they came about. But they did, and in the last moth they were occurring more and more. He hadn't informed her of this, instantly remembering who his badge said he was and who her badge said she was. Her boss and his subordinate if the details were written out for him. And even if they weren't working anymore, even if it was in their own private space, there were rules of the job and he believed the discussions in his room, her room and perhaps the hotel bars as well would be almost a cause for inspection if someone were to discover what they were doing.

And now as she was standing beside him in the cold she was already aware of that he hated and that she loved with her dark locks little by little trapping more and more ice crystals while her eyes were brighter than he remembered them being, Hotch couldn't suppress the tender curve of his mouth showing.

Emily cocked her head to the side as she playfully questioned him still. "So you came out here to stand all alone in the cold you hate? That doesn't make much sense."

She pondered for a moment if she should ask him why he didn't call her if he wanted some company, her company like they had been enjoying for almost five months, but she bit her tongue. She didn't want to push because she believed him calling her when he wanted her company, grasping the fact that he really wasn't alone was, and may still be, a difficult thing for a man like him to do. And a part of her didn't know if that would be appropriate for them. Despite the environment they were standing in, despite the last almost five months, if she was going to unambiguous about it, he was still her superior.

His face relaxed a touch and his eyes eluding hers for a split second before returning the gaze. "No… I guess it doesn't," he murmured.

The stare remained steady and together, the glares of all the adjoining lights and decorations spotlighting the most diminutive details of one another, she saw the exhaustion flicker in his eyes.

"You okay?"

The worry, like that night in Wichita, was roped in her question, her voice and the observant gape on him. Her face was gentle in spite another light whip of the wind that blew through at the moment.

"Yeah… I'm okay."

Upon his answer and the smile expanding a little more for her to show he was truly okay, Hotch returned his focus back to below him. Emily watched him a moment or two longer before following suit. Again, she wasn't going to push him. If he wanted and needed to talk about something, anything, he knew he could tell her. So until that time came, they were side by side in silence, both with their hands placed still in their pockets and collars of their heavy black coats maintaining up as they studied the dozen of people skating on the crisp white sheet of ice.

"Why are _you_ here? You couldn't sleep either?"

The sudden questions broke the stillness. Intrigued eyes were set on her. And for a minute he wanted to ask if it was a coincidence, being together presently in the same place at the same time even if he didn't call her. But he didn't. He stopped himself once more. She turned to face him.

"Hmm… not exactly."

And along with the vague and short response, Emily bit her lip, trying to hold in the smile on her face before tilting slowly her head across to the reason of her presence. His eyes traveled with her small motion, and in an instant, a hearty chuckle, like the ones that would come out unexpectedly during their conversations came out straight away. She stared at the corner of his eyes crinkling tenderly from his uninhibited action.

Hotch twisted his attention to her completely, the exhaustion that she had noticed moments ago beginning to fade just slightly before filling with amusement. With a grin on his face, he jested lightly. "You never disclosed this piece of information during any of our conversations, you know."

And then she laughed, her cheeks she felt turning very pink rapidly, but not from the cold.

"I never would have pegged you to being a fan."

With her chin held a little high, Emily nodded without shame. Her laugh now changed into a beam brilliant like the lights on her face as their eyes leveled on each other.

"It's one of my favorite things."

A moment longer their observation stayed firm until she glanced down momentarily, her hand coming out into the cold to tucked a few strands of her hair garnished with snow behind her ear. When she looked back up, her leather clad hand now warm again in her pocket, she breathed out slowly. She didn't look at him, but he was still looking at her. Instead what her concentration was the tree with the millions of miniature colorful bright spots.

"The first time I was here, seeing this tree, was the age of six."

His interest peaked ever so with the immediate gentleness of her tone. His eyes didn't move away from her. They almost couldn't.

"I was with my grandfather that night. It was about a week before Christmas if I remembering correctly. He was spending Christmas and New Years with us that year. It was the first one he ever did because every year my grandparents used to spend the holidays together in whatever country, state they decided on… just the two of them for three long weeks. But my grandmother had passed away a few months prior, so the tradition of it stopped after that. We were back in the states that year. We spent the Christmas before in Ukraine. So we were here for that week before Christmas and my parents had these parties and events lined up. My grandfather declined to go though one night and I believe almost every time my mother asked him to go with them. And my first time in the city, I had a cold and had been stuck in the hotel room since we had arrived. He told them he wanted to stay with me, keep me company and play board games with me. So he did and we did… for an hour and then it started snowing."

When she shifted her attention to him and found his eyes lingering on her still, attentive and light, Emily continued with her pupils downcast.

"It wasn't heavy, but the grounds were covered. I sat by the window wrapped in a blanket for a while. And then he snuck up behind me and asked if I wanted to go outside. I reminded him I had a cold and that I was not to venture anywhere outside of the room. Those were the rules. But he smiled and told me it was going to be a secret. Just ours, so we pinky swore it and I kissed him on the cheek before he bundled me up and we went downstairs. I thought we were just going to play in the snow outside the hotel, but he hailed a cab instead. I asked him a few times where we were going and he said it was a surprise for me… and he brought me here."

Her chest ached. Tears began stinging her eyes, and she blinked them away rapidly. She wondered if he saw them, but hoped he didn't.

"I remembered my mouth hanging open when he lifted me up in his arms to be near the tree. Once I got over the shock, I asked him how this Christmas tree got so big. He said that this tree was magical. That was why it was so big. Every single light stored someone's wish because everyone who came to see this tree made a wish. Then he told me to make my wish." Emily chuckled with the last sentence.

"You believed him?"

With his placid question, she met his gaze again. The glassiness of her eyes visible, but his acknowledgement of it aloud was nonexistent. And when she spoke again, not looking at him once more, but this time down at the skating rink, her voice slightly crack, but the volume raised a little.

"Yeah… I did. It barely took me a minute before I wished for my own tree. I wanted a tree like this. He laughed and said, 'I'm sorry, pumpkin. Even if Santa gave you a tree this big, there would be no where to put it up. We would have no room in the house or the backyard.' He told me to wish for something smaller. Something that would fit inside the house was preferable if I was to wish for an object of any sort. He said those wishes usually came true. Other than that, I could wish for whatever I wanted. So I did what he advised me to do, and wished for my cold to be gone because I hated being unable to get out of the hotel room all day along. There was this pretty doll I remember from a store in Paris when we were there in the summer for a short vacation. She had long chocolate color curls with brown eyes and pink cheeks. She wore a red dress and had a bow and red lips to match. I begged my mother for her, and she said maybe another time. I wished for that too. And last, but definitely not least, I wished for it to snow on Christmas Day because _nothing_ beats that ever. He laughed and told me I made some wonderful wishes. Then we stayed for just a bit after that, admiring the tree, standing and getting covered in the snow and looking at the skaters before I asked if we could go skating."

Hotch heard a sniffle, and for a second he didn't know if it was from the cold or from the water in her eyes he saw. He didn't ask it nevertheless.

"He said yes, didn't he?"

Instead he asked that, wondering though if he should have, wondering if his question would increase the water in her eyes.

Emily shook her head slightly, her sweet laughter with a hint sadness escaping from her mouth as she faced him. And looking directly at him with her still glassy eyes she spoke again. "No… he said no. It was with a smile though. We had to go back to the hotel. It was my bedtime and he wanted me in bed before my parents got back. But he did promise me we would get to on another day… maybe on Christmas he said."

He nodded, a small grin appearing before her, "So you got everything you wanted that Christmas?"

She bobbed her head up and down once, moistening the bottom of her lip before a reminiscing sad titter filtered through his ears once again. "I got my doll. It was the first gift that I opened… I found out a few years after when I stopped believing in Santa that it was my mother who actually got her for me. She remembered, and honestly when I think about it now, I'm a bit surprised that she actually did… she was always so busy." A quiet sigh came from her. "And it snowed… six inches and counting in the DC area that Christmas morning. I didn't get to play in it, but I still loved it."

An eyebrow of his raised a little as he queried with taunt smile towards her, "Your cold?"

Emily lightheartedly scrunched up her nose.

"I had a fever for the next three days after that night and my cold lasted for another two weeks. Hence there was no snow playing for me on Christmas morning." An immediate chuckle, a jovial one he concluded, fled from her mouth as his echoed hers. "I stayed in bed eating candy canes and gingerbread cookies while listening to Christmas carols. I played rounds and rounds of goldfish with my grandfather, who felt extremely guilty. He made me cup after cup of hot chocolate with handfuls of mini marshmallows for the whole day. But it was alright that I had my cold still. I might have missed playing in the snow, but it was fun though… it's still a memory and I don't forget it."

She presented him with a tender and nearly fragile smile briefly; their eyes continue to be solid through the flakes that fell still before she altered her view to the ground, kicking the thin area of the snow before changing it to the gold statue of Prometheus.

"He never told my parents that we went out… and neither did I. It was still just our secret…."

Until now though.

He was in on their secret now.

And as Hotch came to this conclusion and eyeballing her profile intently, he quietly noted the cheeks that have turned a bright pink now against her pale skin as her dark loose pieces of hair brushed across from the wind. He felt his body warm and another gentle pull on his heart. He watched her pupils moving along with the people below them. Left to right, she moved with them. He didn't know if she was marveling at them or imagining for a brief time of herself back at the age of six if her grandfather would have agreed to her plan. Regardless, he remained silent as well as she, and whether Emily felt him gazing over her or not, Hotch found himself unable to pull away. Just like when she first had began telling him the memory engrained in her head and heart, he discovered it nearly impossible to do so now too.

"And your ice skating… did he keep his promise for another day or Christmas?"

Inhaling heavily and exhaling slowly, Emily kept her eyes away from his intense ones. She felt it; him running over almost every visible part of her. Her body was heating underneath her coat and despite the weather and temperature. She did her best to pretend she didn't feel it. She did her best to not let him know that this nostalgic walk of hers was making her want to cry for a minute. So managing her voice a little stronger than before, but remaining soft, she answered his question.

"No… he didn't. But I remembered it, his promise." She couldn't prevent the sigh from coming out. "Each Christmas after that though, he always seemed to get a little sadder… so I never brought it up."

And before she registered what she was going to do, what she was going to say next, Emily had found her voice growing lower than previously, barely audible to her ears and his as well as she whispered to him something she never believed she had told anyone.

"After I informed him of my wishes, I remember asking him what he wished for… but he never answered me. Sometimes when I recall the night, about him not answering me when I asked him… I think he probably wished for my grandmother."

Until now though.

Again.

To him.

It was hushed between them for a while yet again. Her vision was blurring even more quickly and Emily widened her eyes for a short second, hoping nothing would roll down her cheeks. The few distant words of the lingering people left were heard and she wondered what the time was. How much longer would she have left with the tree beautifully lit across from them and reliving the past with the man whose continuing stare was making her internal temperature rise too fast before she would be plucked back into the present and away from his stare because something about them, something between might not be appropriate, she wasn't certain of. But she didn't pull her hand out into the cold. Not to tuck the hair that had been blown out of place again or to check how long she had left, she remained motionless.

But her gentle voice cut through the stillness as a regretful apology and a light chuckle came from her lips, "Sorry for dampening the mood."

And when Emily finally lifted her head up, her spotlight back to him, Hotch gave her a small consoling smile. His dimple faintly emerged as he slowly nodded with a stare never breaking.

"It's fine… really"

She returned him her own small smile, a sign to let him know she was okay if he wanted to ask her about her current state. A period longer they had each other's concentration, until she felt her cheeks growing flushed. She turned to the tree. He did the same.

"Do you know what Jack wants this year?" Her voice stayed gentle, hoping this might brighten the conversation, the mood that she ruined.

Upon hearing his son's name, the coil of his lips seamlessly grew. Emily wouldn't have to look at him to figure that out. She already had the picture in her mind. Anytime his son was brought into any of their conversations, for one minute or for five, his lips stretched up and out. But she did regardless and she was correct. Yet it was the trace of sadness lingering in it presently that she caught and didn't expect.

Hotch sensed her intent look. He didn't twist to her when he spoke. "He made a list this year… his first list to that imaginary man. It wasn't long and some of it was very difficult to understand, but he sat me down and had pointed out everything just in case Santa needed some extra explanations from me." And with his ending words, he laughed. It was a laugh that came from almost the bottom of his stomach, making the lines at the end of his eyes more apparent than it had earlier when she noticed them with his hearty chuckle.

"You get everything for him already?"

He nodded before altering his focus between the rink and the tree. "He asked for a few games, a toy robot I've never heard of or seen until I was standing in front of it at the store and one of those silver scooters. And on an impulsive buy, I got him a bike he didn't even ask for." He laughed again. "They've been all wrapped, sitting and waiting in the back of my closet with Santa tags."

And despite his eyes away from her face still, Emily nonetheless smiled dimly at him. "So I guess you're all set now."

From out of the corner of his eye, Hotch saw her face and what was being presented to him. He said nothing though and didn't move a muscle for a moment. Her gaze didn't leave him just like how his gaze didn't leave her when she spoke. But regardless, his head lower just an inch or two while his shoulders slumped down just a couple of centimeters seconds later when he quietly continued once again.

"He made something at school last week… a red clay handprint with his name in green glitter on the bottom of it." An exasperated sigh broke from him. "And he asked to go see Haley on Christmas morning… so he can give her the gift. That was on a list he had made specifically for me… to make sure she got her gift too. We spent thirty minutes on Sunday wrapping it… choosing the perfect paper. He ended up sticking three different bows on it because he couldn't decide which one she would like." He paused momentarily, exhaling greatly and looked at the ground before he finished his thought with a broken voice.

"He wanted it to look extra pretty for mommy."

Emily remained silent, her eyes growing progressively blurry like before while feeling a tight grip to her heart. She bowed her head, staring with him at the ground. And once more the hush resumed. She didn't know what to say to him, about the situation she knew she could not help him with. But once she felt him looking at her, her head and focus turned up to him.

"Sorry for dampening the mood even more…" Hotch remarked with a remorseful smile.

Angling her head a few degrees with a soft comforting curve of her mouth bestowed for him and the watery eyes lingering still, she whispered what he had exactly stated to her, "It's fine… really."

Just like how they had done so several times already in the minutes since she had arrived, their eyes were set and even on one another. Her body warmed slightly more than those other times as his eyes were still drawn to the intensifying rosy hue of her cheeks with the tip of her nose to match now. Her hair had even more of those intricate flakes in addition to the miniature crystals finding its way to sticking on the dark color scarf she wore.

He gave her a tiny bob of his head before bringing it down. The quiet took up again. And she stared at him a bit longer, watching him continue to be coated by the snowfall before dropping her eyes too, feeling them little by little dry.

"On the list he made specifically for me, his other wish was that I would be home in time."

Almost simultaneously with the sound of his voice, their gazes locked once again.

"For Christmas? You'll be home before then."

But Hotch shook his head, a low chortle and his clear breath fleeing from his mouth.

"No… he wanted me home in time to bake the cookies with him on Christmas Eve for Santa."

Instantly Emily laughed, curving her eyebrows up teasingly, "You bake?"

"Yes, I bake," he responded with a wide beam, his straight neat teeth appearing for her view.

Soon enough Hotch cannot ignore how her eyes were filled with glee while her face, her smile illuminated more brilliant than all the lights closing around them. And with a playful narrowing of those gleeful eyes, she remarked with the similar words of his once more. "You never disclosed this piece of information during any of our conversations, you know."

He laughed this time, the lightly snow covered strong shoulders of his trembling some whilst recalling that familiar statement.

"I never pegged you to be a baker, Agent Hotchner."

With his hand appearing out of his pocket for a brief minute, bare and large she saw, he patted his heart as his tone turned wryly, "And if I will be completely honest with you about this piece of information, it's from scratch."

The smile grew, her own straight pearly whites showing through her red lips due from the cold as she shook her head vehemently from the right to the left for a moment. "I cannot. Not even the refrigerated cookie dough… I can't bake." The admittance was stringed with her sweet and gentle laughter in between the words with his charming laughter trailing close behind.

And once the laughter Hotch believed he would be hearing when they eventually part finally settled in addition to his own, her tone grew light and the glee in her eyes disappeared and quickly replaced with something he didn't know how to define, Emily whispered to him what she felt, believed and was certain even but never uttered before in their past conversations.

"You're a good father, you know…"

He didn't believe it. He hadn't in a long time. When someone, almost anyone, told him so, he wondered what they saw. He wanted to see what they saw. But he couldn't and he didn't. He had almost begun to consider them all as possible lies, a mere comfort to make him feel better for all his mistakes.

But her expression, the one he was finding himself studying, meant it. It wasn't a lie. It never was. It never would be. She saw what they all saw. And standing in the cold, remembering all their nightly discussions in addition to the one so far tonight, the words coming from her, meant something to him. It meant a lot and within seconds the consideration of what everyone said and what he had always mused turned over just slightly in his head. So with his gaze still lined to hers, Hotch whispered in return with an accompanying faint smile because he meant it too, "Thank you… Emily."

Her first name said from his lips tugged her heartstrings. He rarely used it when they were together. Even with work and in their talks here and there for almost five months, he more than likely called her by her surname. But now, like the very few handful of times he did find her name dancing off his tongue and out for his and her ears, it sounded nice, always solid and never with a waver.

Like that though, both of them moved their eyes away from one another and to the rink below for an additional time. A few people had left already she concluded, gone home to be out of the cold and the snow. She pondered at the ticking minutes again. Still, she didn't look at the time. It would eventually approach. So they said nothing as they stood together again in the increasing calm both didn't find uncomfortable, but rather soothing until his quiet murmur broke it.

"Before you showed up, I was thinking of Jack… about bringing him here. I think he would love it."

She remained hush for a few seconds longer before her serene and positive voice was gathered up. "Hmm… he probably would." He stared at the contours of her face. "And when you bring him here… you can tell him to make his wish too." Her statement and the look that spread across her face turned childlike under his gaze. She didn't bring her eyes up to meet him though.

And with absolutely no hesitation, Hotch softly smiled.

"Was that one of the reasons you came here tonight…" His inquiry was only just audible, but she heard him clearly.

Emily met his focus within moments. His soft smile remained. He observed the long dark curled eyelashes of hers fanning out and holding onto half a dozen of frozen water droplets.

"To make a wish?" Like she had done so in the past.

She tittered smoothly, but apprehensively, the hands in her pocket quavering for a second as her cheeks developing a blush directly at once, but was fortunately for her, camouflaged. He watched as the tip of her tongue peaked out, wetting the corners of her red lips.

"I know it's not real, what he told me… but it's nice…" Her words trailed off as she shrugged lightly.

Biting the insides of her lips tenderly and looking away, Emily pulled her hand out her pocket for a second time of the night and shakily tucked her damp tresses behind her ear. And she didn't put it back in, but instead slightly cupped for her and his sight as she caught the snow in her palm.

"To play pretend… believing in stories… even if it is only for a while."

In her words, he heard the twinge of sadness.

"What did you want to wish for?"

To his surprise, the inquisitiveness in him at the moment crept over and came out without warning, without delay.

She whipped her head around toward him, making eye contact. "What?"

His gape focused solely on her face watching as her eyes widened a touch and danced under the glowing bulbs, he repeated his inquiry to her again, with his tone turning subdued, fully knowing now what he was asking her.

"What did you want to wish for?"

An immediate grin broke out from her, her rosy cheekbones rising into a smooth round curve. And for the briefest moment, he noticed for the first ever time the tiniest indentations of the sides of her face whilst a laugh, perfectly nervous he was sure now, flowed through his ears. "No… I will be not telling you that." She scoffed seconds later, shaking her head with a sniffle.

But Hotch would not quit his stare he had on her, the one she felt gently searing through her once more. And the soft smile he had before, the one that had immediately appeared when he asked if she had come here tonight with the intention of making another wish on the Christmas tree, was steadily vanishing. His expression was unreadable and possibly indescribable. Yet his eyes told another story. They always did. And at the present time, they were filled with wonder and something else she didn't know how to categorize glimmered in them. So as Emily stared back, the grin that came out so quickly previously bit by bit erasing, her heart fluttered too much underneath her coat and sweater and below her ribcage for a few long minutes.

Then with trepidation in residing every nerve and flowing through her veins, she murmured her wish to him.

"A constant…"

That was her wish.

They were only two nearly perceptible words yet they were pierced through his ears into his brain.

She was more than aware it was silly, wishing on the tree. It was just a tiny tale of her grandfather's to her six year old self. She had grown wiser over time. She learned to separate fiction from facts, what was real and what was just a game of make believe.

This was truly fiction. This was just a game make believe.

Yet for the present time in the skin prickling cold under the falling snow she loved, standing across the reason that brought her here tonight as she had took her tread through her memories and shared minuscule details with the man she had found quietly and unexpectedly blazing through her since about one moth ago, Emily didn't mind the fiction and the game of make believe.

And it was the holidays.

So she wanted to wish for someone. Someone she would find standing beside her whenever she turned her head to the side because if she was honest to herself, she got lonely sometimes. Someone who she could talk too wherever she was if she wanted, needed to and whenever she wanted, needed to. Someone that would perhaps provide her with a touch of stability and a lot of understanding because sometimes she believed she might slowly lose herself with everything she saw. She was willing to play pretend tonight that one of those thirty thousands colorful bulbs strung around the pine tree held onto her wish.

Possibly if she was lucky, if she was a little optimistic, it would be granted.

The fiction and the make believe might become real.

"Someone constant… I think it would be good… someone in my life…" Her wish, her words aloud slowly grew faint, insecure what he would think and say and certain she sounded ridiculous to him.

In a matter of moments with hearing it though, Emily watched as his face softened, his eyes dropping from hers ensued with his head soon afterwards, and for a flash, she had thought she saw the tiniest curve forming on his mouth. But the face that had softened he kept hidden from her for the time.

He envisioned it. Her words, her wish transforming into a picture formed in his head and a place he didn't understand as well.

His heart.

And what else he didn't foresee was him _with_ her in her wish, in his picture.

That was almost instant.

His heart beat faster.

And when Hotch glanced up a little while after, the image of him with her still present and pressing in his head and heart, Emily pulled her eyes away. She stared ahead before lifting her gaze up to the tree. He studied her, no words and no sound escaping him.

The close to five months where they had been discussing whatever came to mind at the moment seemed to slip away from her because for a long minute her mind was pulled back and forth as she wrestled with asking him, thinking if it would be allowed between them. Just like when she bit her tongue before she permitted herself to inform him that he could have called her if he wanted her company tonight, she believed she should have bit her tongue now as well. But she didn't. Not this time. Maybe it would be okay to ask him. Thus she shuffled her feet into the snow, her voice remaining very quiet, a little timid in addition to that because she was a bit afraid of asking him, she murmured once more.

"You ever think about it again?"

Immediately he understood what she meant. It wasn't difficult to given her wish. And whilst the weary sigh escaped from his mouth, Hotch dipped his head down, concentrating on his lightly dusted snow covered feet.

"I don't know."

The answer was solemn and muffled. But it was clearer than bells and laced with more than the three words would be able to convey into her ears.

He didn't know if he would be able to again. To find someone, who understood him, his job; he didn't know if he could do it again even if he did find that someone. He had given everything he had already once. He tried with all he had, attempting to find a way to balance everything and in the end, everything backfired. Making his family happy with whatever they needed and wanted without losing himself, his identity, cost him everything in the end. And when his failures exploded and the large and deep scars he gained, physically and emotionally, the ones he caused his son too, remained present and felt so apparent for everyone to see, he was doubtful if it would be a good and perhaps even healthy. Bringing someone into his life, his son's life because after failing him once, he didn't want and he couldn't do it to him again.

As well as failing someone who would be standing by his side again through whatever would be thrown in their path, he didn't want to fathom.

Yet despite all his doubts, his worries if he would have someone again, if he could do it again, if he would be able to find any way to make everyone happy without losing himself, the answer that he had given to her was a lie.

Because the answer was yes, he did think about it.

He did think about it, having another someone, another constant in his life again. Beneath all the work he drowned himself in, tucked from all the many smiles and laughs and the few cries of his son when he missed his mother, he thought about it. When he was alone, wide awake and not calling her for her company because she needed sleep too, feeling the coldness of the other side of the bed, he wanted it.

And now, courtesy of her, her words, he found him thinking of it, wanting it with her.

"What you think though…" She felt his eyes on her, heavy and melting the snow and burning through her protected body. "About it being good… I can see why…"

She heard the honesty in his tone. It was strong, dripping in each of the words that he whispered. Silence encompassed them while his eyes stayed on her, wondering, hoping and even wanting her to look up. And finally when Emily lifted her gaze to him, she found the continuing soft face, a frail curl appeared before her, only for her.

"And you deserve it… your wish…"

The words came out suddenly to his ears and hers as well. The firmness and the flawlessness of them she could not ignore as it registered in her head.

And heart.

He meant it.

She did.

Her body froze. His body he felt tiny prickles despite being in the cold he hated for almost an hour, feeling the temperature dropping slightly more since then. Her heart pounded hard. She felt her mouth just barely ajar. She didn't blink and neither did he. Not a muscle in their bodies or in their faces moved. Not one of them spoke a word. And as they kept this up, the staring contest between them, their backdrop dim slightly.

The thirty thousand tiny shining multi-colored bulbs on the Christmas tree that attracted people from here and there, that she had made her first wishes in her grandfather's arm, that had brought them together tonight as they revealed a little more about each other to one another, understanding the wish she would pretend that could happen before his words were whispered that she deserved it, were turned off.

However of the missing glow, the staring continued.

Her heart seemed to be pounding faster and now loud for her ears, and Emily was convinced he heard it too. He didn't though; not one single beat. Because in the unbroken stare of theirs; Hotch had found himself memorizing her. Her pupils trembling just slightly with the way her red lips were shaped as it was held slightly opened. And unable to not embed how those long curled out lashes of hers trapping an extra count of snowflakes as the beautiful shade of her cheeks shined fiercely against her ivory skin and the darkness of the color of her hair and clothing, he was taking every diminutive detail possible.

But once the realization of what he was doing eventually seeped into his brain, knocking loudly on his head and heart while everything inside of him pulled from every direction informing him that looking at her, staring at her like _this_ was wrong, Hotch quickly dropped his eyes, turning them to almost anything and everything that wasn't her. And Emily did the same, simultaneously gently clearing her throat while looking at anything and everything but at him. But it would be inevitable, turning back to one another and once their eyes settled on each other, both attempting to pretend that their last few moments had not occurred, but fully knowing that it had, Emily expectedly found her voice nervous and quiet.

"It's getting late…" She let a low laugh, her fingers rising in a small tremor to push her imaginary hair behind her ears.

Without a second of hesitation, hoping it would mask his own nerves; Hotch bobbed his head once and cleared his own throat like her. "The flight's at seven… we should try to sleep a little."

Emily nodded, tugging her eyes away swiftly after his comment. But she didn't take a step forward to their exit. Instead she turned her head a little more around, feeling his gaze resting on her, she set in the final minute of the spectacle even without the lights and all the old and new, as well as possibly fearful, moments of tonight with him next to her. Her vision grew hazy and she took a deep breath before spinning around, facing him for barely a second, hoping to conceal her eyes. Then she took her first step with him right beside her. Walking the same path of cobblestone she had entered from and passing the closed stores and the angels and poinsettias, his head was kept a little bent while she kept hers up. And in the deafening silence, Hotch watched step by step as their feet moved slowly and in unison through the thickening layer of white powder on the cobblestone ground.

When they reached the avenue, the amount of people lessening greatly then when she first arrived, his arm lifted up without twisting back to look at her. She watched him then, almost admiring the stress lines of the job on his face as it became a spotlight of the street lights. But the signature yellow car stopped by his side, causing her concentration to end and snapping her out of her thoughts as he held the door open for her. And once inside, scooting until she was near the other car door, Emily sensed his eyes on her as she quietly told the driver the address back to the hotel.

Neither said anything.

She kept solely focused on the streets with her elbow propped on the edge of the window as her hand bent and tucked underneath her chin. But as she was taking the last sight of the holiday city night, all she found herself reflecting on was him. The sadness in him when he responded to her short, but large question while the firmness of his tone and words and his face weaved into her head and her heart when he told her she deserved it, her wish with the moments following afterwards.

It was overwhelming.

And while Hotch did the same as her, watching the stores changing and passing by him as the vehicle moved, his now warmer hands clasped loosely on his thighs, he wondered if she thought he went out of line with his comment, thinking even that he should apologize for it. Even if he meant it, even if that picture of them that had formed in his head and heart immediately before was still carved into those two parts of him, he remembered the boundaries between them. At a halt of the red light, he took a glimpse out the corner of his eye at her, sitting with no movements and perhaps wandering in her world back into memory lane, he discovered himself wanting to know what she was thinking about and again like previously, embedding her current appearance in his mind. The bright pink hue of her cheeks had lightened and resembled a light stroke of blush disappearing in her creamy flesh now while the snowflakes that were caught in her hair and glued to her dark coat melted with the warmth of the car.

He reluctantly dragged his eyes away when they moved again.

It took thirteen minutes before they reached the hotel. When the taxi pulled over, Hotch whispered that he had the fare. Emily murmured the quiet phrase of gratitude before slipping out the car after him, choosing not to go out on her side leading to the street. He opened the side door for her, forgoing the revolving doors. The people in the lobby had lessened as well. Only a few remained, mostly workers she saw as her heels and his sound steps were echoed against the floors to the elevator. He pressed the ascending button, never allowing a glimpse thrown her way for any second. And when the elevator doors opened for them, she walked in first. Side by side in the quiet they rode up to the seventeenth floor. Each floor passed had the tension thickening in the enclosed space. With her hands in her pockets fumbling the key card, she wanted to ask him if he was okay again. But she didn't, merely taking a quick look at him with his head gently turned from her.

And when they stopped, the doors opening for their exits, he was half a step behind her. Emily didn't expect any less of him when he passed his room and followed her to her own. She carefully slipped the key card in, feeling him stare as she waited for the neon green light flashed. With her hand gently holding onto the handle and turning it lightly until a click was piercing the quiet they were in, Emily slowly twisted around. Face to face now in the pale yellow incandescent vividness of the hallway, she observed the circles under his eyes and the exhaustion creeping back into them. The stillness and the staring lingered for a moment longer before Hotch broke it, shooting a look down the hall but ultimately returning it to her.

"About before…" His voice was nervous she immediately realized. "What I said, I apologize. It was… inappropriate."

Straight away she understood what he referred to. Her head moved from side to side though, a sweet, shy curve of her mouth gracing his presence and concealing her racing heart. "It's okay. It's fine. You have nothing to apologize for."

He felt a deep breath come out and offered her a weary smile.

"The company tonight was nice…"

It was more than that. It was different. Everything between them felt different presently. Everything between them felt magnified. Everything between them felt unknown.

Yet that was the only word he could come up with, the only thing he managed to say because he didn't know how to describe it.

Her smile given to him spread, "Likewise."

The tension from the elevator crept up again as her brain was spinning. But he spoke again, breaking everything they didn't know what to say and everything they didn't know what to do.

"I'll see you in morning." Hotch gave her a tentative terse nod. "Goodnight, Emily."

"Goodnight…" She allowed her voice to fade away, eyeing him carefully, allowing her name from his mouth again to set into her head as she thought about his apology and what she wanted to say to him.

But he turned then; ready to proceed down to his room to find the sleep that would hopefully overtake him and the thoughts and images of her and that specific vision of them that refused to disappear.

And in a moment, in the process of his first step away from her, Emily nibbled her lip and decided to be brave, not caring if he thought it would be inappropriate too but fully knowing that he probably needed to hear it. She would tell him what she immediately realized and what had been plaguing her mind since he had responded to her question.

"I get it…"

He stopped at the softness of the voice he had been hearing for the night. For a minute he found himself comparing it to that night in his apartment and that night from Wichita. And he couldn't hear a difference.

It remained soft and comforting.

Slowly Hotch spun around, connecting his gaze to hers. Her face resembled those two nights as well. And what he discovered in her eyes were sincerity and certainty with the smallest flickering spark.

"You have your doubts… I get it…"

He was his own worst enemy.

"But you deserve it too…"

Through all the blame he continued putting himself in, no matter what he thought about himself, no matter who he was afraid of hurting, he deserved it too.

And similar to what they had done when he murmured those familiar words to her, they said not a word, moved not a single muscles in their bodies and faces between their stare without a blink. Her pulse sped just a bit faster and his palms moistened as his throat tighten, uncertain what to say.

She meant it.

He did.

When she felt the faintest smile materializing on her face for him, wanting to show him she understood him and his worries as well as hopeful that what she told him was the truth; Emily bowed her head and steadily twisted her heels around. And upon another gentle push to the door, she walked in, never looking back up at him as she calmly and carefully closed it behind her.

Hotch remained in place, staring at the closed door, staring as if she was still returning the gesture as his head continued trying to process her words, his words. She knew what he didn't say, what he felt. And for a minute he thought about taking the three steps forward, knocking on her door and asking for an explanation for so many things.

He wanted to know how she knew it. He wanted to know why she was sure he deserved it too. He needed to know why that image of him with her in her wish would not leave him. He needed to know why it even had formed in the first place. He wanted to know why she was seeping in every part of him.

But he didn't.

Instead he turned away from it, moving his feet until he reached his room. He treaded in, not bothering to open any of the lights; the glow from the snow and lights through the open curtains were settled to be his guide around. Quickly he shed all the winter layers, throwing them onto the one seat couch without care. He climbed into the unmade bed, lying on his back, feeling every knot in his body untying.

With every second passing though, Emily remained in his head. Her smiles, her laughs, her words and her voice when she whispered to him her wish persisted to invade every part of his body.

He had no control.

She was everywhere. She was in everything.

And as the blinding red numbers in the room continued to slowly tick away the night, the falling snow disappearing from the skies, Hotch stayed wide awake, reflecting over her wish, thinking of her, and wondering if that the picture of him with her would be a maybe someday.


End file.
